


Troika

by Saucery



Series: The Sterek Porn Collection [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Males, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Badwrong, Barebacking, Breathplay, Consciousness Play, Consent Issues, Control Issues, Curses, Dark, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Group Sex, M/M, Magic, Make Them Do It, Marathon Sex, Oral Sex, Pack Dynamics, Porn, Sex Magic, Smut, Submission, Supernatural Elements, Threesome - M/M/M, Triggers, Twisted, Voyeurism, Werewolf!Stiles, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:53:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A curse temporarily transforms Derek into an Omega during the full moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Troika

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowdarkred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdarkred/gifts).



> Omegas don't function this way in the _Teen Wolf_ 'verse, but let's suspend our disbelief, shall we? Also, in this story, Peter bit Stiles instead of Lydia. The bite took, and as a result, Stiles is a full werewolf and Peter was never resurrected. (Peter needed an immune carrier to resurrect him.)
> 
> Inspired (inadvertently) by **snowdarkred** 's comments in [this](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/post/37171320699/snowdarkred-alpha-derek-will-not-be-pleased) post.

* * *

 

It's on a full moon that the curse hits Derek, carved into an unknown Hunter's arrow, glimmering and poison-blue. The wound itself heals quickly, but the poison stays, and _stays_ , and over the following hour Derek's behavior begins to change - imperceptibly, at first, a mere loosening of his shoulders and a flushing of his face. By the time they've returned to the Hale house, however, Derek can barely stand, his muscles weakening and his dick hardening. It's weird and it makes everybody uncomfortable, most of all Derek, who scowls and manages to pull a book off the shelves, opening it to a particular chapter and passing it to Boyd before slowly collapsing to the floor, like his legs can no longer support him.

Once everyone's read the chapter Derek presumably intends them to read, there's a lull - a horrified lull - and by unspoken, common consensus, everybody leaves.

Everybody except Stiles and Isaac, that is.

Derek isn't even pretending to be all right, anymore. He's shrugging out of his T-shirt - his arms trembling and unsteady - and it's obvious that he has a fever, given how red he is. He's panting and his erection is tenting his fly; it must be painful, but Derek only grunts and skates a palm over it, as if he can't bring himself to do more than that.

He's watching them. Challenging them. Asking them?

Isaac gulps, hesitating, then startles when Stiles takes a step forward. Neither of them says anything. Neither of them knows _what_ to say.

Derek's body language is so unfamiliar that it's almost unrecognizable. He's gone all molten and needy and pliable, his entire posture radiating availability. Submissiveness.

It's -

It's surreal.

Derek's gone from Alpha to instant Omega, although he's still growly and irritable about it, because when Stiles and Isaac do nothing, Derek snarls and tells them to get the hell  _on_ with it.

So they do. They strip, sneaking glances at each other. (Hey, they're teenage boys; they can't be blamed for comparing sizes, even in this situation.) They're both erect. Of course they are. Who wouldn't be, with the scent Derek's putting out, right now? Spicy and heady and strange?

Derek makes an impatient noise. Right. The sooner they do this, the better. That's what the book said.

Moving awkwardly and settling on either side of Derek, they try to get the rest of Derek's clothes off of him, but the moment their hands brush Derek, things get worse. Immeasurably worse. Suddenly, Derek's visibly aching for touch and twisting helplessly on the floor, whining and digging his claws into the boards and writhing even as Isaac works Derek's jeans off of him, even as Stiles gently shushes Derek and then silences him with his cock.

And Derek just takes it, swallows it, loudly and wetly and sloppily and greedily, and Isaac groans at the sight of it, the  _sound_  of it, Stiles's eyes flashing yellow as he tries not to let his talons injure Derek's face, since he's still cupping it, stroking it, trying to be comforting. He has to be comforting, because Derek's own eyes are wide and lost and vaguely betrayed, as though he isn't sure whether it's his own body's betrayal that's hurting him, or his Betas' new dominance of him.

But, as Derek's newly-turned Betas, Stiles and Isaac have to take care of him. They just - they  _have_  to. They're the only unmated ones, the only ones not bound to others, like Jackson is bound to Lydia and Scott is bound to Allison and Boyd and Erica are bound to each other. They're the only ones left.

Maybe they're a little too happy to be the only ones left, though. Maybe they're enjoying this a little too much. Derek's in heat, and it's getting to them, the scent of it driving them crazy in shattering, maddening increments, each muffled moan of Derek's making them quiver and each clench of his fists making them salivate. The fact that it's the full moon isn't making it any easier to remember their place, either, to remember that this is their Alpha, not some willing thrall at their mercy, not a split-slick, welcoming hole and a pretty mouth that knows just  _how_  to beg -

And as Isaac works Derek open with his fingers and kisses and licks and (accidentally; he  _swears_  it's accidental) bites Derek's thigh, Stiles holds Derek's wrists down and pushes deeper and deeper into Derek's throat, cutting off Derek's air supply because Derek  _needs_  him to, because Derek's eyes are asking him to, and when they roll back, it's okay because Derek can take it, because Derek's a werewolf and this won't kill him, he'll just keep flashing back to consciousness only to pass out again, and he wants to pass out, doesn't he, who  _wouldn't_  want to pass out, who wouldn't want to escape this as much as fucking possible -

Derek -

Derek doesn't really  _want_  this, doesn't -

"I'm in," Isaac whispers, shakily, and Stiles feels a hot flare of hunger when he sees it, when he sees Isaac's dick buried in Derek's ass, holding still, holding  _still_  because Stiles knows that if it were him, he'd be holding still, too, trying desperately not to come, not to finish this any sooner than he absolutely has to -

"Do it," he hears himself saying, dizzily, even as he tilts Derek's jaw further and straddles Derek's face and  _fucks_  it -

And Isaac thrusts, viciously, like he's been unleashed - again and again, forcing Derek's back off the floor with every jolt, and Derek's nipples are so stiff under the sweat sheening his skin that they gleam like pearls, like dark, hard little pearls and Stiles longs so fiercely to bend and take them between his teeth, to bite, to make them  _bleed_  -

But he doesn't, because it isn't his place to mark his Alpha - that's not how it works -

It's getting difficult to remember how it  _does_  work -

Derek isn't making any sounds, probably because Stiles isn't letting him breathe. All Stiles can feel is the flutter of Derek choking around him, vibrations that could be groans, that could be pleas to stop -

He  _can't_  stop.

"S-sorry," he says, feeling stupid and drugged and frantic, wanting to claw his own flesh off to get inside Derek, wanting to shove Isaac aside and take his place, wanting to duplicate himself so that he can have Derek both ways,  _all_  ways -

And Isaac's expression says that he's feeling the same thing. He's watching Stiles use Derek's mouth, just as Stiles is watching him use Derek's ass, and it's - it's better than anything, wilder, more insane, something out of a hallucination, because this can't be real -

It is real.

It's devastatingly, beautifully real when Derek's hips arch as much as they can against Isaac's heavy, steady slamming inside of him, Derek's thighs spread open and twitching, his abs tensing and his toes curling as he comes all over himself, as his dick jerks and shoots all over his stomach, his chest, his  _throat_  -

Stiles yearns to sink his fangs into it -

 _No_  -

Soon, Stiles is coming, and Isaac immediately after, and in the whited-out bliss of it they almost forget what they've done, what they've been made to do, what _Derek_ will do to them, later -

But then, Derek shifts, and Stiles and Isaac freeze.

Derek smells of them. Of the both of them. He smells like pack. He smells like an Omega. His pupils are still blown, his lips still swollen, and when he turns it isn't to leap upon them, to rip them to shreds, but instead to settle on his knees, leaning forward on his elbows, and there's this desperation to him that's as resigned as it is bitter, as lovely as it is  _sweet_  -

"Keep going," he rasps, letting his eyelids slip closed, as if to hide what he's just said from himself, as if to pretend it was an order and not a plea, not a -

Fuck.  _Fuck_. Stiles just came, but he's ready to go, already. His dick is rising and lengthening, leaking over his own hand as he strokes himself, staring unblinkingly at Derek's ass, at the semen-sticky redness of that hole, the thought of how sore it must be, how loose after the reaming Isaac gave it, how  _good_  -

The curse hasn't worn off, yet. It's still the full moon. It's still several hours before dawn, several hours until the curse breaks.

Isaac and Stiles look at each other, hearts thundering, before switching places.

Their Alpha needs them.

Their Omega needs them.

At this point, does it even matter which is which?

 

* * *

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Check out [my blog](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
